The Consummation (Unexpected Circumstances 3)

“What do I mean? For the love of God, Alexandra, you will be the death of me.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. I dropped my gaze to the ground. “I’m not sure what you want me to do.”

Branford sighed, closed his eyes, and shook his head. He rubbed his eyelids with his fingers then swallowed hard and looked straight at me. He pulled both of my hands into his and shifted so he was facing me straight on instead of sitting beside me.

“Please,” Branford whispered. “Will you lie down with me? Right here on the blanket? I want to see your skin in the sunlight, and I want to touch you again. I want you to touch me again. Please, Alexandra.”

I looked at my hands clasped in Branford’s grip, up to the horse at the edge of the meadow, and then to the trees around us. Of course, there was no one there. Though I felt like I was being watched, I knew it was only my own uneasiness. Branford was asking me to shed my clothing for him—out here, in the open, where someone could certainly stumble upon us, however unlikely. I remembered what he said about wanting me in the garden at the castle and even on the throne. My skin began to tingle, and that strange, throbbing feeling made its presence known at the apex of my thighs, reminding me of the incredible, blissful feelings he had brought forth with his fingers on my flesh. In my mind, I heard a small, previously unheard voice peep out and say “outside be damned.” I wanted to feel like that again.

And that is when I first knew how much I wanted his touch.

Chapter 2—Slowly Explore

“Please.” Branford’s warm breath danced over my lips. “Please, let me touch you.”

“Yes,” I finally responded when my head cleared. His kisses were leaving me without enough breath to speak even when his lips moved from my mouth to the hollow of my throat.

He placed his hands on my hips and pulled me close to his body. I had to rise up on my knees, my skirts trapped beneath my legs as he pulled me to meet him eye to eye. He kissed at my throat, down the skin at the base of my ear, and across my jaw.

I closed my eyes to the bright sunlight and let my hands coil into his hair, holding his lips to my skin and trying not to think about how he was pulling at the ties of my dress and how I would soon be exposed to him. Opening my eyes, I marveled at how the light caught the strands of his hair, shining like bright shards of gleaming metal. I fanned out my fingers, twirling a lock of the sparkling hair in my hand.

“I desire you so much,” he mumbled into the skin at the base of my neck. “I have never…never wanted a woman this badly.”

His words both thrilled and terrified me, for there was a part of me that was glad to have him say such things—to know he wanted me as a husband was supposed to want his wife—but there was still another that remembered how a man’s lust could overcome him. He may do something he would not have done had he been in his ri

ght mind.

Still, my skin tingled beneath his touch, and I told myself he would not hurt me—Branford had promised he wouldn’t—as he began to unbutton his jacket. He only got through the first couple of buttons before he was kissing me again while his hands trailed down my sides. They came around to my stomach and then made their way back up to the ties of my bodice. I offered no protest while he undressed me. As he exposed my skin, Branford stopped for a moment and turned to me sharply.

“You are mine,” Branford said sternly as his hands captured my face. His eyes bore into me, his look so intense I could not speak at first. He looked angry, frightened, and elated all at once. “Only mine—ever.”

“Yours,” I finally said quietly, and his lips crashed back to mine. With an open mouth, he claimed first my lips, then my tongue, then my chin and my throat. I kept my grip on his hair as he worked at the ties of my dress. He was having trouble with the laces and growled at the knots as he pulled at them. When they loosened, he dropped his head to my chest, and I could feel his warm breath as he kissed at the top of my breasts.

“So beautiful.” His words touched my bare skin just before he tilted his head to look up at me with half-closed eyes. “I want to see you…all of you.”

I could only nod dumbly as his hands pushed slowly, softly, and the sleeves of the dress fell away from my arms, leaving me bare from my head to my waist. I could hear my husband’s rapid breaths as his dark eyes—somehow untouched by the afternoon light—gazed from my shoulders to my breasts, his mouth open just enough to drag his tongue over his bottom lip. He released my arms and leaned back on his heels, unbuttoning the rest of his jacket and tossing it off to the side, near my riding cloak. His gaze met mine again, and he kept it focused on me as he loosened the waist of his pants and pulled his shirt up over his head.

Even when I had my hands on his chest and his back to wash him, it had been by the dim light of the fire and candles—never in the sunshine. Now I could see him quite clearly, and those wonderful lines decorated his chest and stomach with the outline of each and every muscle. Indeed, his skin was so beautiful, so radiant, he seemed to shimmer in the sun’s beams.

I heard Branford’s slight chuckle and realized I was staring at him with my mouth open. I closed it quickly, feeling the heat in my cheeks as Branford took my hands in his and placed my palms on his bare skin.

“Touch me, Alexandra,” he said. “Do not hold back. Touch me any way you wish.”

I nodded, my lower lip firmly snared by my teeth, and ran the palms of my hands from his chest up to his shoulders. His skin was smooth, with just a few wisps of dark hair in the center of his chest and down around his stomach. I ran my fingers along the curve of his upper arms, and the large muscle there flexed as I stroked it. I reached his forearms and hands and then lay my palms flat against his stomach. The lines of muscles there tightened as I touched them, and I shivered.

“Tell me if you are cold,” Branford said. “The sun is warm, but I want to know if you are chilled.”

“I’m not cold,” I assured him, though I wondered if I should have been. The sun was high and its light was warm, but it was still early in the spring.

“Tell me if you get cold,” Branford said, emphasizing his words. I glanced at his eyes, but he wasn’t looking at my face. He watched his own hands as they ran up my arms and then down again.

“I will.”

Branford’s response was only a hum. He traced a single finger over the tip of my breast, smiling slightly as it contracted at his touch, then leaned back and swiftly removed his boots and belt.

“Lie back,” he said softly. He brought his lips to my forehead and kissed me once as his hands put light pressure on my shoulders. I closed my eyes and bent to his will, dropping my head to the blanket as Branford’s fingers slowly moved from my shoulder, across my collarbone, and to my breast. Again, a single fingertip traced around the nipple slowly, and I could feel it harden even more under his touch.

“Do you like that?” Branford whispered, his words breathy. “Do you know how lovely it is when your body responds to me this way?”